


Never Meant To Fight On My Own

by The_Shipping_Persona



Series: Discord Prompt Fills! [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: (Sorry about that, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Gangs, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Androids, Angst, Connor and Nines are Hank's Son, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/F, Gang AU, I blame discord tm, I'm still working on this, I'm used to making oneshots.), Jericho (Detroit: Become Human), Kara is usually right even if she doesn't believe so., M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Updates, prepare for feels
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-25
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-03-14 16:47:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18952060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Shipping_Persona/pseuds/The_Shipping_Persona
Summary: Connor joins a gang in search of avenging his brother.[This is a prompt fill! The idea for the story was prompted from "IN700 | Annoying Kid" on the RK1K Server. I can't say what the prompt was word for word because spoilers, but Seriously, I loved the idea a lot and we developed the entire plot together. It was awesome. (Don't listen to their username, their awesome.)]





	Never Meant To Fight On My Own

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So I may update the description above to something better, but Anyways welcome! I hope you like the story, and I blame discord for this. I love it though. *rubs hands together*
> 
> I tried to fix the formatting of the first chapter. I had over-edited! I'd suggest re-reading it. ^-^

"Cole!" Connor chased after his little brother. The wind whipped at his clothes, and the cold bit at his skin. The rain was pouring, and his chest heaved as he pushed himself further. His legs burned. He kept running. His brother kept running down the hill.

It happened so fast.

His eyes widened, the flashing of a car's headlights filled his vision. His heart pounded, a dead weight settling in his stomach. "Cole! That's the street!" He hollered, and his brother-

His brother didn't stop, a smile on his face. Connor could see it. The way he rolled his eyes and laughed. As if Connor was trying to trick him into stopping so he could catch him.

It was sickeningly so, and if Connor could throw himself at the car instead, he would have. He would have without hesitation.

The car hit his little brother, the grinding of the breaks filling the air far to late. A scream ripped out of Connor's abdomen.

This was all his fault.

His legs felt like elastic stretched to its limit, and salt tears were falling down his face. The street was filling with red. His chest heaved, and he fell right into it, like the bands were finally snapping.

His legs burnt, and he felt like he could faint. "Oh my god!" He cried. His brother looked at him. No. No. No. This could not be happening. "Cole you're going to be fine-" He blabbered. His brother was bleeding, he was hurt. It was spewing out of his abdomen. "-hang in there." He needed medical attention, fast. This is too much, too much blood.

"Do you have a phone!?" He snapped at the driver who had stepped out of the car. The driver looked horrified.

"I'm sorry about-"

"Leave it! If you have a phone, I need you to call an ambulance, we need to get him to a hospital.” He grit his teeth. He was trying to keep his voice level. "Please, I don't have a phone on me." Connor begged, squeezing his brothers hand.

To his relief, the driver stuffed a hand in his pocket, pulling out a phone. That was good. His brother could make it, right?

"Connor..." Cole mumbled, voice slurring like he was drunk. He'd be too young to be drunk, and he is sure as hell too young to die.

"Yes?" Connor quickly looked down at his younger brother. He looked to pale. Please. This can't be happening. Someday, they'll look back at this moment.

And it'll all be just a bad memory, right?

Please... just let it be a bad memory.

-

His paints were stained red. He felt sick. He sat in the waiting room. This was all his fault.

This was all his fault.

Nines was staring at him. His father was staring at him. He scoops his legs up, and stuffed his face onto his thighs. God, they reeked. Of blood.

"Connor," Nines whispered as if he couldn't possibly bring his voice an octave higher. His voice was shaky, and watery. He was going to cry. "C-" His voice broke, lightly tears were falling down his face. "Cole's going to be okay. He's-he's strong, alright? Remember that one time the neighbor's dog bit him? He laughed it off and started parading it off to his classmates like it was the coolest thing ever." Nines seem to calm down as he spoke, voice growing fonder and fonder by the moment.

Connor gave a water laugh, a shaking smile frittered to Connor's face. He closed his eyes, feeling the flickering warmth in his chest at the memory. His brother claimed they were battle wounds, and he earned them fighting a dra- a dragon.

His brother would do that this time too, right? Connor wonders what crazy story his little brother would make up this time. A fairy? A horse? Or maybe a goblin?

The door slides open, shrill to his ears. Everybody's heads snapped up. Eyes focusing on the eyes of the nurse with fiery red hair, and green eyes. An a sullen look on her face.

"Hank Anderson?" She said, voice soft, and sympathetic.

Dad has to force his voice out, as it cracks and he breathes heavily. His eyes are wet, and his hands fold together. "Is-Is Cole alright?"

The nurse, looks between Nines and Connor, than back to Hank.

"I'd like to talk to you in private, is that okay?"

"Uh," Hank says, worried eyes scanning them both. "Nines, take care of your brother would you?" He pushes himself up quickly, moving towards the Nurse.

Connor sees him cross his fingers, as Nines places a hand onto Connor's shoulder. The door closes shut, echoing.

Connor dips his head. "It's all my fault." Connor sobs. "If-If I hadn't been-"

Nines squeezes his shoulders. "Connor, no." Nines blue eyes pierce into Connor.

His twin brother was never the best at showing emotion. His hand shakes, as he squeezes his eyes shut. He can't seem to find the words.

_Or maybe he can't find the reasons why this isn't Connor's fault._

_Connor lowers his head. The blood under his nails are drying, and he feels like he could vomit._

The smell shoots up his nostrils, and he gags. Nines seems to shoot up off the chair, dragging the trashcan over to Connor. It's screeching against the floor.

Nines winces, when Connor pukes, rubbing his back. "Yeah, just let it out..." His brother says distantly, nasally as he pinches his nose with fingers.

Connor wipes his mouth, mumbling out a horrified 'sorry.'

Nines leaps off the chair from his gremlin like sit, and pulls the bin away.

His twin brother walks back slowly, blue eyes trailing his brown dress shoes.

"Connor, it's-"

Those words would haunt him for years, as the sentence would not be finished.

The door opened.

None of them knew what to do. Connor wanted to puke again, Nines wanted everything to go back to the way it was before all this.

And Hank,

Hank just wanted just wanted his son back.

And for every one those fucking red ice suppliers at his feet. To kick them into the depths of hell.

~  
Connor hugs his jacket close to his chest, flinching as thunder rumbles across the sky. Nines places a hand on his shoulder.

Connor looks at him tight lipped, and takes the umbrella.

Ever since the incident, thunder and rain freaks him out. He can't stop it from reminding him of how the rain pelted down at his face, or how it mixed with the blood on the road. He cringes, eyes slipping closed. If he had a mood ring, it would be bright red with anguish.

His twin brother squeezes his shoulder painfully. Connor looks at him expectantly.

Nines just shakes his head, lifting his hand up. What is that supposed to mean?

The rain continues to piss down at them, as Nines slowly turns towards the headstone. It's cement, and beveled above the ground.

It hurts, as Connor reads the words 'Cole Anderson'. It's as if it's definitive proof that this has happened.

That this is real.

That there is no way to turn the clock back.

This isn't fair, Connor frowns. Too young. Too young. Way too young. This is all his fault, isn't it?

"I'm so sorry." Connor's hands tighten around the umbrella. The metal of the handle reflects messily back at him. His knuckles are white, and his fingers press harder into the surface.

He's bitten his nails down to the quick. He can't seem get the blood out of his nails. He needs a shower. But the water pelting down at him reminds him of rain. He needs a bath. But the pooling of water reminds him of blood.

He grimaces, closing his eyes. He needs to stop thinking about it.

"Stop." Nines says, as if he can't bear to hear anymore. It feels as if Connor has placed his hand on a fiery-hot the electric stove, and his hand is smeltering as he jerks it back. Connor can't help but reel back with it.

A weight settles in his ribs, between his chest. It's slowly dropping, like a pendulum in a clock slowly letting the weight stop, and the arms move, time is ticking in this horrible silence.

Connor bites down on his lip, hiding his face shamefully from Nines. Silence. Its suffocating. Smothering him. Can't breathe suddenly. Lungs clogged. Moving too fast. Too much. Panic, dying?

"-Connor!" His dad yells, grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him over to the bench.

Dad takes the umbrella, moving it behind him. He blindly passes it to Nines.

Nines takes it, looking worried. Confused. Lost. Pained? Guilty?

"Come on," His dad coaches, Connor's hands grip onto the bench. His fingers sting, nails to short for such pressure. "Breathe with me, alright?"

He whines. "Don't give me that," His dad shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "Uh it was-Breathe in, 1-2-3-4!" His father remembers, chest raising while he speaks.

Connor tries to follow, swarms of blackness pick at his vision. His chest pulls resistance, and he sucks in air greedily.

"That-a-boy." Dad says, "Now let it out." His dad breathes out, lips moving forward into an 'o' shape.

His dad's breath fans Connor's face, a choked giggle comes out of Connor. It tickles. His dad gives him a blank stare.

"Who knew you can make one Connor Anderson giggle by blowing into his face?" His dad says. Yet he smiles. Just barely, he's going for levity.

"Not me." Nines adds. "Just do what dad was saying. Breathe, okay? I'll do it too."

He follows.

Three men in a graveyard doing what every other occupant in this place can't; breathing.

Something Cole can't do anymore, Connor thinks painfully.

* * *

  
His dad pours himself into his work, and he comes home inebriated for the fifth time this week.

Nines sighs, closing his book. Sumo's collar rustles rushing towards their dad. "Get Sumo!"

They learned the hard way that Sumo will knock him over by accident.

Nines jumps off the back of the couch, landing perfectly as he moves towards their Dad.

"Sumo!" Connor says enticingly, standing up. Sumo stops, turning his adorable head towards Connor. "That-a-boy, Sumo. Come here..."

Sumo looks at Dad, and whines. "I know, you'll see him again soon." Connor moves quietly, finger hooking onto Sumo's collar.

Nines gives him a thumbs up, sitting their Dad down at the table.

His dad grumbles something. Connor doesn't have to hear it to know what he's talking about. Everytime he comes home drunk, he talks about it.

The Red Ice Dealers.

Red Ice is a drug that has been known for years now.

The thing is, Cole needed surgery, and the surgeon was too high on Red Ice to operate.

Nines places a cup down onto the table, and gestures for Connor to go put the dog in his room.

Connor takes Sumo upstairs. He missed when they lived in the old house. There wasn't stairs. Yet, when Cole came along the house was too small, so they moved.

He passes by Cole's room. Nobody goes in there, and the door stays closed. Sumo has tried entering, as if he's looking for Cole.

  
(Nobody wants to talk about how Sumo scratched, whined, and sat outside Cole's door for days after he passed.)

  
Connor frowns, putting Sumo into his dad's room.

He steps back, startled at the red string tied to a cork board.

Sumo goes to sit in the corner, down on the doggie bed. Connor stays, mystified as he moves forward.

His dad was tracking the Red Ice cases. A mess with scrawls of text like;

\- interrogated on supplier info  
\- came up empty  
\- fucker won't talk

Wow, his dad really had a penchant for swearing when frustrated. This information though was useful...

\- Interrogated on supplier.  
\- Got em' to talk.  
\- Vaguely.  
\- The Red Ice suppliers is a gang.  
\- which gang ????

Like a stone pinging in Connor's stomach, he came to a realization.

With this information Connor could track down the gang. Some of these people were still out in the world, with 0 jail time.

If the Red Ice dealers where a part of a gang it would make it so much easier to take down. Each supplier would be the cards.

Heavy defensives on the outside...

Yet he could take them down on the inside. He just needed to locate which gang it was, and how to get in.

He looked towards the door. "Stay here, Sumo..." His body feels empty as he treads lightly towards the door. It creaks as he opens it.

With a wince, he closes it behind him. Sumo whines as he scratches at the wood. "I'll be back Sumo," He whispers lightly.

He stands at the top of the staircase, straining his ears. Dad and Nines are talking.

_"-eally shouldn't be coming home drunk, Dad."_

_"My mistake." Connor could almost picture his dad rolling his eyes, his voice slightly slurred with alcohol. Water only seems to help so much. They were going to try giving him Coffee. That was the plan. It may help._

_"We've been worried about you." Nines says. Connor can picture how Nines folds his hands, and how he leans his weight into the table._

_"Well-Sorry." Dad sighs miserably._

_"Connor and I would really appreciate it if you talked to us about what's troubling you."_

_"I've just been doing research on the Red Ice suppliers. The more those bastards are allowed to keep supplying the worse we all are."_

_Nines takes a breath, "I know, but maybe you just need a break?"_

_"I can't take a break, Nines."_

_"Say's who?"_

_"Says me."_

Connor takes a step back and moves towards his dad's room, and halts when he hears his name.

_"-Connor isn't the same anymore, and you're not the same anymore, and everything is just changing way to fast-" His brother says._

Connor tunes him out, yet it still stings.

_Not the same? Not the same because its all his fault? That he's a murderer technically? Connor thinks._

When he opens the door, Sumo looks up at him curiously. Connor pulls his phone out of his pocket.

He winces.

Maybe if he had actually had his phone on him that day, Cole would have lived...

Connor shakes his head rapidly, time to focus.

He takes pictures. He takes pictures of the missing pieces, of the names, maps, locations.

He saves it to his phone.

A plan set in motion, forming around him. It may take a few days, but...  
~  
Night begins to fall onto the house. His dad is asleep, and Nines is too. Sumo whines at him, the only other occupant awake.

Connor has everything packed up in his suitcase. He's prepared himself for this. Yesterday he went to the library and printed off the photos from his phone.

The phone part tears him up inside. His dad is a police officer. He works in the Detroit Police Department.

Him, the son of a police officer, going missing will spread through the department like the plague. They'll search for him with fever, and pull out all the stops, just in case he was kidnapped.

(He's willfully ignored the fact that Nines, him and Cole have had a significantly higher chance at being held for ransom for years.)

He shakes his head, the phone is a liability. They can and will use it to track his location. Even if he turns location off.

It just can't stay, and he needs to replace it. He needs a burner phone.

Suddenly, his eyes widen. An idea forms in his head. If he can pawn the phone off, he can get enough money for a burner phone.

It'll have to do.

He closes the suitcase, and places it in his closet. Not yet.

He needs to find a pawn shop, first, then he'll need to find a place that's open at night where he can buy a burner phone so he can ensure his plan will go accordingly.  
~  
He finds it, and the cash is in his wallet. He keeps a bit of cash in his bank account.

Not to be too suspicious, and just in case.

He can't get caught.  
~  
His last dinner with his family is stifling to him.

The last look is painful.

The last soft pet of Sumo's fur stings him. Sumo whines. He thinks Sumo knows.

Sumo is a smart dog.

Never the less, he grabs the suitcase. Sumo whines at him as he moves through the house.

He can't believe he's doing this.

He leaves any hesitations at the door, feet pounding off into the night. Gone.

For four long years, that is the last the small town in Detroit saw of Connor Anderson. Sure, they saw missing posters nearly shoved into their retinas. A shame, they'd say.

A shame for such a loss.

Checkmate.

* * *

  
Connor moved silently pushing Amanda off of him.

"Come on, Connor." Amanda said teasingly. "I'm housing you for free here, it wouldn't kill you to do the dishes."

Connor hums, eyeing the dishes with distain. "Fineee." Connor slumps, moving towards the sink.

His hands grip the counter, nails barely growing back some across the years.

"Geez," Kara says, flicking him with water. "See, it's not gonna kill you."

"Ha-ha." He say, fishing for the mangy sponge in the bottom of the half filled sink. "What is it, pick on Connor day?"

"No," Alice says, gripping her toy. "I think its just teasing."

Connor smiles, wincing as the plates clink against each other as he pulls one out.

"Well noted-" Connor replies, holding out the sponge. Kara, squirts some soap out of the nozzle from the bottle onto it. "-Thank you."

He rubs the soap onto the dish, circling it around. "Look at that, Alice," Kara prompts, shifting to look at Alice with a doofy smile on her face. "He's doing it."

Connor rolls his eyes, running water over the dish, yet a fond smile casts over his face, his tongue jutting out as he gets that once piece of grime.

"Good job," Alice says, "Can you can clean my room?”

"Nice try, Alice." Kara says fondly.

"Yeah, jump on that guys. Alice hasn't cleaned her room in /40/ years."

"I haven't even been alive that long." Alice comments.

"Checkmate," Connor says, washing the soap off with water, placing it into the rack. "If you haven't been alive that long, you still wouldn't cleaned your room for 40 years."

"Somewhere," Amanda says, "That logic made sense."

Connor smirks, pulling out another dish from the sink, as Kara moves to dry his dish.

"Alice has cleaned her room before," Kara defends. "Was it a year ago or?" Her smile is open, and her expression is silly as she looks at Alice

"Mommmm..." Alice whines.

Connor smiles. Alice deserves having Kara as her mother; Kara adopted Alice with warming arms.

It's sweet, Connor thinks.

Kara chuckles, shoving Connor lightly on the shoulder. "You done that dish, distracto-boy?"

"Yes, yes." Connor says, washing the soap off the plate, and handing it to Kara. "I've never seen someone so excited to dry dishes."

"It's the easiest part of the job," Kara says, smiling delicately.

"Uhmm." Connor hums, pulling another plate out of the sink. He moves much faster this time, at least getting two into the rack before Kara dries them.

"Alice, hun, do you want to put away the dishes for us?" Kara asks.

"Sure." Alice says, hopping off from her spot at the table. "When will Grandma Rose be back?" She questions as she walks over to the counter.

Kara hands her the plate.

"Connor?" Kara defers. Connor looks up at the calander.

"In about two weeks."

"I hope she comes back soon." Alice frowns, placing the plate back into the cupboard. Amanda helps her of course, lifting her up. She looks happy though, with a smile on her face.

A smiling Alice is a happy Alice, and a happy Alice is a good day.

Connor smiles, putting another dish in the rack.

"Who knew you could make one Connor smile by forcing him to do the dishes?"

 _"Who knew you can make one Connor Anderson giggle by blowing into his face?_ "

"Not me," Amanda says.

_"Not me."_

The dishes clank loudly, and Connor's shoulders hike up at the sound of the dish plummeting to the bottom of the sink.

"Connor?" Kara asks softly, "You okay?"

"Yeah-" Connor shakes his head. "-I'm fine." His traitorous shaking hands reach back into the sink, grabbing the bowl that thankfully didn't crack.

He can feel Kara's stare on him, but she doesn't question. She seems to understand. They both tread on the same rope.

"Alice, would you mind looking at Grammy-Amanda's roses?" Amanda questions, "I'd like your opinion on them." She offers, sensing the need for a change of pace.

"Can I?" Alice questions, looking at Kara for reassurance.

"Go right ahead sweetheart," She takes a dish from the rack. "Make sure you wear a coat though, alright? It's getting cold out."

"Okay..." Alice says, and soon the house is silent, Kara and Connor doing the dishes in tandem.

"I notice you kinda-" Kara searches for the word. "-spased out earlier?" She tries, it works enough. "You okay?"

"Yeah," Connor shakes his head, cleaning around the rim of a plastic cup. "Sorry. It just reminded me of something my father said."

"Really?" Kara says curiously, softly. "Care to share?"

"Hmm," Connor hums. "It's not that exciting in retrospect, and it hardly makes sense without context." He turns the cup around, letting it fill with water before dumping it, and repeating it until there is no soapy residue in the water. He places it in the rack.

"You seem almost fond of the memory." Kara observes. She's right though, as Connor becomes mindful of what his face is doing.

A small smile tugs at his lips. It's a bittersweet memory. Panic addled as his mind felt, and the horrible place they were in, and the emotions. The way his dad kneeled before him, soft, slightly quaking hands squeezing his shoulder, reminding him how to breathe properly. It's bittersweet.

Connor closes his eyes. "It's silly."

"Connor," Kara says, looking out the window to where Alice hops excitedly next to Amanda. "You know me better than that."

Connor nods appreciating, placing another dish in the rack. "You're right," Connor says. He watches how Amanda smiles softly at the excited Alice. "You're always right."

Kara snorts, rolling her eyes. "I wouldn't say I'm always right."  
~  
"You were right," Connor points out. He taps at the pin he placed into the corkboard. "The supplier entered from the west cost."

"Good." Kara says, "Now we wait to see if they move here." Kara places yellow pin at the desired location.  
~  
"See," Connor emphasises. "You were right, again!"

"What's this?" Amanda questions, picking up a coaster with a mug on top of it and crossing her legs where she sits.

"Oh, Connor's just got it in his head that I'm always right." Kara smiles, tilting her head. She looks like she’s about to laugh like the prospect is ridiculous-even amusingly wrong.

Amanda scoffs, "You're pretty spot on, most of the time."

Kara sighs, throwing his arms into the air. "You're all just as bad as Luther."

Amanda laughs, patting the arm of her chair as she does so. It's a laugh that blooms deep within her stomach. "Honey, that man has the instincts of a fighter! It'd be good if you'd listen to what he has to say about you."

"Mm." Kara hums, rolling her eyes.  
~  
Connor takes a step-back, examining their work.

"The docks." Connor whispers, eyes sliding towards Luther. Alice is asleep, and Luther plans to surprise her in the morning.

He sits on his knees, taking the information in. "I see. I fear that's near where the little ones school is."

Connor frowns. "What name was she going by there?"

"Alicia Williams." Luther answers, leaning back. "That way we could say Alice was a nickname."

Connor nods. "How has the fake IDs coming along?"

Luther sighs. "Ralph says it will take a few days more."

"Does he claim they'll be succulent?"

"Of course." Luther smiles, leaning back on his hands.  
~  
Ralph hands them the IDs. The burn marks on his face never fading. "Ralph suggests you be careful." He advises.

"We will." Connor replies, brushing the surface of the three id cards delicately with his fingers.

"Ralph put a lot of work into those," Ralph says. "Don't lose them."

"We promise we won't lose them," Luther says softly, “have we ever lost one before?"

"No." Ralph says softly, shaking his head. "Ralph is thankful."

Connor smiles sadly. "You're welcome. Would you like some tea? Spaghetti? Rose makes a killer spaghetti dish."

"Is it succulent?"

"Of course." Connor smiles pocketing the ID cards.  
~  
"We move at sundown," Connor says, placing a tack. "Any questions?"

"Yeah, how are we gonna be sure that they'll be there?" Luther questions, leaning forward.

"Kara predicted it."

"Oh," Luther says. "Okay."

Kara places her hand on her forehead. "Why..."  
~  
His alarm goes off.  
Connor raises his head, looking up at his Calendar. "Why..."

He drops his head, deflating back onto the covers. He grabs the pillow messily, shoving his face under it. He turns around, front facing the wall.

_Moving, running. Little brother running moving. "Tag!" His brother jumps at him from behind, and takes off in a run._

_The street. The car. Blood. Breaks squealing. Hurt. Waiting room. Nines. Dad. Cole gone-_

"Connor," Alice pushes into his side, jostling him from side to side. Her little fingers press into his ribs. "Wake up."

"I'm awake," Connor says, and it comes out more of a jumble of words.

"Leave him be, honey." Kara says softly, voice addled with sleep. "Today is one of those days for him."

"Oh," Alice says, and Connor feels her moving back. "Right."

"Can we make him hot-coco like we do when I have my bad days?” Alice asks, and he can hear Kara chuckle softly.

"I'm sure he'd love that." Kara says, "Maybe Grandma-Rose will make us all spaghetti today, how’s that sound?"

"Great!" Alice says, "Did you hear that Connor?"

Connor hums in agreement, disgruntled as it is.

He hears footsteps exit the room and run down the stairs, two at a time. One halts near the door. "You gonna be okay, Connor?"

"Probably dealing with it better than my father..." Connor mumbles.

"Uhmm." Kara mumbles unsurely. "He has your brother, Nines, right?"

Connor mumbles in agreement, moodily flopping on his side in the endless attempt to get comfortable.

"And You have us. We're here for you, alright? Maybe see if you can tucker downstairs at some point. Even if you come down in a cocoon of blankets."  
~  
"Pajama Day?" Luther says, leaning down. "I'd love to join in."

Alice giggles, "I'm glad."

"I'll be quick as a bunny." Luther says, standing up.

"So," Rose says, plate clinking softly down onto the table. "Whose' the mummy?"

Kara smiles, "His name is Connor." Her voice is playfully as she pats Connor on the head.

"Amanda did say it was one of those days." Rose tuts, Connor feels the couch dip. "Come here,"

Connor is half leaning into the arm of the couch, nestled in blankets, courtesy of Alice.

Which was really nice of her.

It does though, make it very easy for Kara to gentle prod him into the motherly arms of Rose. She gives him a mom hug.

It's the type of hug that he hasn't had before his mother died.

He smiles, "Adam should be home from school soon." Rose says. “I'm sure he'll enjoy having a pajama day with you guys.”

Adam left the house this morning, damning how unfair it is that some PD days are elementary school only.

While, Connor Anderson can agree, he didn't quite finish high school.

Regardless, Connor Anderson is legally declared dead.

Connor, is just Connor now.

(No. He didn't watch the cameras hidden in the court. He didn't watch how his dad hung his head in despair as the gavel pounded that his son was declared legally dead. They couldn't pour any more resources into it. The cost was getting too pricy. No, he didn't watch as Nines frowned, tilting his forehead into his Dad's shoulder to hide his tears. No he didn't, with a sense of bittersweet pain, what are you talking about? This was worth it, right?)  
~  
Amanda sits down in her chair, "Connor?"

Connor hums, he's kind of gotten through the day. It hasn't made it any easier. Spaghetti sauce reminded him of blood with a vengeance, and he hardly could stomach it without his stomach growling squeamishly at him.

"Yes," Connor says, holding himself tightly. "Amanda?"

Amanda hands him a book. "I didn't know what to do to help you. I hardly know how to help myself at times, but I thought it might do you some good."

He holds the book in his hands, reading the cover. A CBT book. Therapy books. He's heard about them.

"These books are filled with a vast amount of knowledge in how to cope with troublesome thoughts or memories."

Amanda speaks with a passion, and it's hard not to forget that she was once an active teacher. She speaks about knowledge as if it was the gospel.

"-Thank you." Connor gapes, looking down at the book, and looking back up at Amanda. He doesn't know what to say. Amanda closes her eyes softly.

"I hate seeing you suffer, and same should be said for all of my pupils." She sits down on the couch. "Emotions are a complex thing, but I know for sure is that they cannot be ignored. If left to fester, the results could be disastrous."

Amanda leans forward, "So Connor," Amanda smiles softly. "Take care of yourself."

Connor sniffles, holding the book to his chest. "I'll-I'll try my best." Connor nods, "Thank you."

Amanda smile grows warm, beckoning him forward for a hug. "You're welcome."  
~  
The wind whips at his clothes. He's perched on the roof, peering through a set of binoculars. His gun sits off to the side, just in case.

"Four-three-two is passing." Connor spectates, watching as one of the men walk along the wooden stretch. "AX400, remember you're Emily Goldflish, and you're a tourist from Ontario, Canada. TR400, You're Daniel Zemfer, a man of few words." Connor reminds, voice soft and quiet.

Untraceable to others with the depths of his quietness, and further drowned out by the wind. Luther nods lightly. Kara nods with her hair dyed blonde, and styled different custosy of Amanda, and makeup applied by the Jerry's, with ID in her pocket just in case.

Kara moves towards the man with the man roaming the docks. "Excuse me," She says softly, and even that puts the man on guard, hands flying to his side as he whips around. “I'm looking for the Detroit Museum of the Art I'm horribly lost, and I'd love to visit Carl Manfred's neurosymbalism exhibit before I have to return to Canada- and whose to say it will be there next time-" She weaves him in, faking distress.

Connor has to say he hasn't really been to such a place. Though, he's seen the man’s art. Something about it always hints at such a deep sadness, or loss in his opinion. It... hits to close to home for him.

The man deflates, hands dropping from his holster. "It's okay, calm down," Slowly, the man begins to kindly instruct her.

Meanwhile, Luther slips behind her, and enters the cabin.

Connor watches, not a very interesting sight to see. Luther slips back out in minutes. The man instructing Kara looks at him; "Who are you?"

"I'm her friend." He slips into the man of few words role easily, giving no more information.

"Oh." The man says, and finally they go on there way.

Something peculiar happens though. As the two walk away, another pair of people enter the docks. Kara fakes dropping something.

It slides to the ground, right next to the people’s feat. "I'm so sorry," He hears Kara say.

The first of the two ladies, a woman with blue hair bends down, and picks it up for her.

Kara smiles confidently as soon as her fingers touch the paper, and takes it back.

Fingerprints.

Kara and Luther walk off, and Connor stays placed on the roof.

"Rk800, are you leaving?" He hears Kara say, "We should get going."

"Hold a moment..." Connor says. "Don't get onto your bikes, you'll spook them. Walk up here, I think we have more Info on a computer."

He hones into his hyper-focus, scrambling over to his laptop, he connects to the wiring he set up, plugging a headphone into his ear. Moments later, he hears footsteps. He whip around to check, but Kara and Luther just sit down next to him.

"Let me broadcast it," Connor says, redirecting the feed into each of their earpieces.

"You're the people?" He hears - a man. The one that helped 'Emily Goldflish'.

"Yeah," The woman with the blue hair says, she crosses her arms. "We are."

"You sure?"

"What," The brown hair woman cracks her knuckles, "Are you doubting us?"

She cracks them slowly, and deliberately, arching her neck upwards in a show of dominance.

The man- steps back arms raised in surrender. "Alright..." The man says, He attempts to look into the cabin.

"Don't look into the screen, please. Eyes on us." The woman in blue shoves her hands into her hoodies pockets.

The man looks over. "Alright... I trust you."

"Good." The woman with the brown hair drops her arms.

"I don't," Kara says.

"So, the product?"

One of the woman sticks her hands in her pockets. "Come to Jericho," The woman passes the paper to the man, who looks at it with some sick desire for something.

Drugs. Red Ice.  
~  
"Jericho, is a gang." Luther says, and Connor feels like his life work finally means something.

"Yes, my father's originals notes referred to the Red Ice Dealers as a gang! This has to be it."

Connor hops to his feet in one fell swoop. "Please, tell me you've got coordinates of some sort." Connor knows at this point he's begging, but he ran away for this, this is his life's work. This is his purpose. This is who he will be. This is what he wants, right? It's the end-all-and-be all for him.

Kara looks uncertain, "Yes, but..." She bites her lip. "I don't know." She shakes her head, handing him the sheet, letting him tack it to the board.

"Yeah?" Connor prompts, but Kara shakes her head.

"I'm sure it's nothing," Kara says, shaking her head. "My worries- that is."

"I'll be fine," Connor reassures. Kara looks at him, and Connor has the feeling that wasn't the point.

Connor wants to hear her out, he trusts her.

Before he can ask- Alice comes runs into the room giggling, pulling a dejected Adam with along with her.

"What's going on?" Kara questions, and the moment is over.

"She found my secret collection of 80's music." Adam says, "Which in my defense, she _was_ snooping in my stuff."

"Come on, Come on!" Alice cheers, tugging him along. "You've got to play them!"

"80's music?" Connor says, squinting. "Why do you have 80's music? How would you even play them?"

"I burnt them onto a disc to play in my dad's," He frowns, eyes showing deep sadness, "dvd player when I was younger."

Luther smiles, "I'm surprised to see such a thing in 2038." Luther peers at them, "Can I see the disc?"

"Uh," Adam says, looking at Alice. She pouts at him. "Sure." Luther takes the disc, holding it gently.

"Ooh, Bon Jovi." Luther says excitedly, handing it back.

"What about Guns 'N' Roses?" Connor asks curiously. Adam’s already half way across the room at this point, and Alice has turned the dvd player on.

Kara gently turns the T.V on for them, almost subtly.

"Yeah-" Adam says, "Great Band."

Connor smiles softly, going back to the board. His dad liked Guns 'N' Roses.

The music starts up, the dvd player playing the CD.

Alice smiles, and even if Connor can tell Adam is a little unhappy with how his secret was revealed, he smiles too.

Alice dances, and Connor laughs.  
~  
He sits down on his bed, brushing his hands through his hair. He sighs, looking around the place. He bites his lip. Anxious energy is flowing through him.

Amanda and Rose share a look, "Connor?" Rose says, softly, she places a hand on his shoulder, sitting down beside him. "If things don't work out, you can always come back here."

"I know." Connor nods, "Thank you."

"Talk to me, what's troubling you?"

"I'm just worried that my life's work is going to not work. This is for Cole, and If I fail, then I'll never get to avenge him."

The name doesn't leave his mouth often, and even now, it makes him feel sick.

"Honey," Rose says softly, "Everything will find its place in the end. Even if this doesn't work out, there is always some other way."

"Yeah," Amanda agrees. She sits down delicately on the bed. "Those are just 'what if' thoughts. I had a student, smart boy, who would always think in the future. He unintentionally caused himself a lot of grief. It's best to think in the present sometimes."

"You won't know unless you try," Kara adds entering the room. "Right?"

"Yeah," Connor nods. "Thank you..."  
~  
"Wait-!" Alice says quickly. behind him, her footsteps are hasty and quick. Her arms wrap around him in a hug, just as he turns around. "I'll miss you."

Connor's face softens, kneeling down lower. He hugs her tightly. "I'll miss you too, Alice."

"Promise me you'll come back." Alice squeezes her eyes shut, arms tightening. Alive, He can tell.

"I plan too." Connor says, closing his eyes.

"Good." Alice says, and she pulls away. She grabs Kara's hand.

"Come back here if you need to," Kara says firmly. "Do not hesitate, okay?"  
~  
The bike rumbles under him, and the wind whips delightfully through him. Finally, his drive concludes to a tall business building.

A ruse.

He turns the ignition off.

The wind rustles him, as his bike dips as he stands up. He stuffs the keys in his jacket, and starts his walk. He's patient. Waiting. Expecting. A movement to his left, a movement to his right, NOW!

He pivots on his foot, hands locking onto neck of his attacker. Lightly, not to maim or injure. "Whoa-" It's a guy, with blonde hair.

Connor glares. "What was that for?" He knew. He knows.

The guy brings his hands up, in an surrender. "We don't know who you are." The guy explains, he shoves his hands into his pockets.

The thing is-

Never drop your guard.

He turns his head- a little too late.

Dark, inky blackness.  
~  
His head burns. It stings. His skin is like sandpaper. He brings a finger his temple. It feels like his veins are physically throbbing.

He can hear voices above him, garbled. Wavering. Underwater.

_"North." A man says, "Why?" He sounds longsuffering._

_"Well, a suspicious dude shows up, what do you do?"_

_"-Not beat someone up, North." The man's voice is enticing, the way it flows. His tone dips beautifully as he talks, and he adds a little more edge to the end of his sentence._

_"-Well, he did have Simon in a choke hold, so he has some training."_

_A different man-probably-Simon, pipes up meekly. "It's fine. I'm fine. It only hurt a little."_

_"See," The woman says. "He hurt him."_

_The man with the enticing voice, sighs. "Please, lets not make this any harder than it has to be- We see what he's doing here, then we'll let him go."_

_"Not if he's here to hurt us!" The woman-North says._

_"Yeah, yeah_."   
~  
He squeezes his eyes shut, turning slightly where he sits “You finally awake?" He hears.

His shoulders have never flinched upwards faster. His heart beats fast, looking towards the speaker.

He has a few thoughts; The man has beautiful eyes. Blue, and green. He's attractive, that's for sure.

Right-Right. This has got to be the man with the enticing voice from earlier.

"Yeah," Connor says, rubbing at the back of his head. This is really not how he expected this to go, really. "I'm awake."

"Good." The man pushes off the wall, and moves to a chair near the foot of the cot, he turns the chair around, and sits in it facing Connor.

Connor slumps. This is it. This is his chance.

"So,” The man begins, “Why were you loitering around Jericho?"

"I'd like to join."

"Join?" The man echoes incredulously.

"Yes." Connor nods.

The man raises an eyebrow, "And how did you hear about Jericho?" His mouth still gapes slightly, like he really wasn't expecting this to go like this. Me neither, Me neither. Connor thinks.

"Through a friend." Connor says, softly.

"Hmm..." The man stands up. "You're interesting, I'll give you that."

Connor feels warmth flood his face, "Thanks."

"Let me talk to my co-council, I'll be back." The man nods at him. His footsteps tread out of the room, slowly.

Connor breathes a breathe of relief.  
~  
Days later, Connor follows North out. She clearly doesn't trust him yet, and she's very begrudging about talking him along.

"You're coming along with Me, Simon, Josh, Ripple, and Echo."

 _That is not proper grammar, Connor._ He can almost hear Amanda say.

Connor nods. "For what?"

"We're investigating the Red Ice Dealings-" Connor's blood runs cold.

"Echo," North points at the girl with the blue hair-! Connor recognizes her from the docks, "And Ripple-" North points at the girl with short auburn hair. "-tricked some sad sack into thinking we were where he had to get the drug." North crosses her arms.

Connor feels sick, squeezing at his arm. "We got to go get the guy, before he squeaks back to Sorbet."

Connor's stomach rustles, and for a moment he think he might vomit. Yet.

_Everything will find its place in the end. Even if this doesn't work out, there is always another way._

Sorbet, though. He had thought they were just a childish group of Children. Babies. Smol.

All along they were so much more all along-

"Connor?" North says, "Don't tell me you're wimping out."

"Of course not," Connor says, swiftly a different plan forms in his mind. He can work with this. Strength in numbers… "I'm just getting started."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
